by Charles Memminger
Monday, October 14, 1996
The five ball was as fat as a melon as I lined it up for the side pocket. Pock. It dropped. Then another. And another.
Then, as quickly as the feeling came, it left. I lined up what should have been a routine shot and all of a sudden, I wasn't quite sure if it would drop. It didn't.
The Black Widow didn't seem disappointed. After all, she's used to playing 9-Ball with leppos like me in charity pro-am events all over the country. The fact that she ended up with two leppos as partners (two ams per pro) was unfortunate, but I think her career will survive.
Safely out of the competition, I had time to sip my beer and survey the strange spectacle before me. Sprinkled around the room were the world's best women pool players, most of them dressed in sleek black outfits. Their partners were a collection of crummy players who knew they were crummy (the ones having fun), crummy players who thought they were good (the ones who were a bit too intense for the proceedings) and good players who just kicked butt.
The occasion was the Cuetec Honolulu Classic, a week-long billiard extravaganza that culminated last weekend with a Women's Professional Billiard Association tourney. The stars were the women in black. And, to the chagrin of some of the women players, the star of the stars was the Black Widow, Jeanette Lee.
LET me try to explain something here without stepping on the delicate toes of the Politically Correct Police. The women who compete in 9-Ball are, well, babes. I'm not being a sexist pig. I'm stating a fact. And it's a fact that is carefully engineered by whomever is behind the women's 9-Ball movement in America. The women project themselves as elegant and feminine in their dark clothing, carefully coiffed hair and full makeup. And this veneer doesn't quite shield their true essence as steely-nerved predators locked in continual battle for rankings, sponsors and prestige. An air of savage civility hangs in the room. (Think: Cocktail party meets pool hall brawl.) And frankly, for some strange reason, guys find this pretty cool.
The poster girls for the 9-Ball circuit are players like Jeanette Lee, Ewa Mataya, Gerda Hofstatter and Loree Jon Jones. While they definitely are glamorous, they've made their mark by winning matches, not wearing makeup.
Naturally, it's a bit irritating for the rest of the field to have the same handful of players interviewed and asked for autographs. But that's not peculiar to 9-Ball. If you were into golf, whose autograph would you rather have: Tiger Woods or Doofus Spittlehocker?
I'm a shallow guy. I admit it. When I found out that there'd be a pro-am event, I specifically asked to play with Jeanette Lee. You know, the petite Black Widow meets the Big White Married Guy. (It's got to be a bit unnerving for Jeanette's new husband to constantly hear his wife referred to as a widow.)
I play pool rarely and badly. The third guy on our team, Josh, looked like he might be pretty good, but, sadly, that was not the case. And despite the Black Widow's strategy (You guys blast 'em and I'll try to pick up the pieces), we were soundly thrashed. The leppo factor clearly outweighed all of the Black Widow's skill.
She was good natured about our loss as she continued to knock a few practice balls around the table. Pro-am events are a necessary evil of professional sports. But I sensed in her elegant bearing a subtle change, as if her mind already was turning to the work to be done in the next few days. These women in black were her prey. Playtime was over.
